Idaho's permissiveness leads to elk on the lam

Sometime in August, 100 or more domestic elk escaped
from a game farm near Rexburg, Idaho, through a hole in the fence.
The elk were bred for their huge antlers, and are known as "shooter
bulls," meaning they’re destined to be shot with bow and
arrow or rifle, by clients engaged in an elaborate fantasy that
they are hunting the real thing — elk in the wild.

The game farm that the elk fled from is called Chief Joseph Idaho.
One can’t help but wonder what the real Chief Joseph of the
Nez Perce Tribe would have thought of that. Idaho game wardens are
trying to kill the escaped elk in a highly controversial control
effort. But even as we speak, entrepreneurs such as ex-Denver
Bronco Rulon Jones have targeted the state as the perfect site for
new or expanded game farms.

The runaway shooter bulls
belong to Rex Rammell, a veterinarian and self-described "freedom
fighter" and "mountain man." Rammell never reported the escapees,
preferring the Idaho tradition of taking care of your problems
yourself — especially when you have a long list of violations
and your farm elk have run off into the surrounding countryside,
where the wild elk of Idaho are in the height of the rut.

Rammell says that he and his family could have recaptured all the
shooter bulls — they’ve repatriated 40 so far —
by luring them into catch pens with molasses-soaked barley. At this
point, says Rammell, state game wardens are to blame for scattering
and killing them. Rammell has not said what he was doing to catch
his elk during those weeks before state wildlife officials drifted
by to check out the rumors of an escape.

Wildlife
officials from Idaho, Wyoming and Montana are worried about
interbreeding and the possible spread of bovine tuberculosis,
brucellosis and chronic wasting disease; Rammell insists that all
of his elk are healthy. We’ll have to take his word for it,
since he has resisted every attempt by the Idaho Department of
Agriculture to test them. Apparently, freedom-fighting mountain men
don’t like to deal with pantywaist government employees.

And in Idaho, apparently, no one forces them to, even
when they have a business that endangers a public resource. Idaho
game farmers lobbied successfully to have their industry regulated
by the Department of Agriculture, because they claimed that state
wildlife officials were hostile to domestic elk farms. It is true
that Agriculture officials have been supportive, even if at times
they did have to issue a few citations. In 2002, for example,
Rammell racked up some $750,000 worth of fines for not complying
with agency rules concerning his domestic elk. But convenient
action by the Idaho Legislature meant that most of the fines were
forgiven.

In Idaho, more than anywhere else in the West,
people get elected to office on the strength of their hatred of
government. Once there, they take grim delight in destroying the
intent of the institutions they have been elected to serve.
Meanwhile, states such as Colorado, Wyoming and Wisconsin are
spending millions of taxpayer dollars in an attempt to control
chronic wasting disease. Walking away from active governing is no
problem, perhaps, as long as you live in a relatively empty region
with nothing at stake. But in Idaho, what’s at stake is the
continued existence of healthy herds of true wild elk.

Idaho is one of the few Western states that has failed to address
the game-farming issue. Now, game farmers like Rulon Jones have
zeroed in, looking for the last best complacent place to build huge
fences, kill off the wild big game inside them, and install
domestic elk for clients to shoot. The experience that they sell,
like any deviant fantasy, is fragile and must be carefully staged.
That’s why Rammell didn’t want to use the orange ear
tags on his elk that would have allowed wildlife agents to quickly
track escapees down. Rammell needs to sell an illusion of the Wild
West, even as his clients kill up-close and in an enclosure.

There is a catch: The kill at Rammell’s game farm
is only guaranteed if you also hire one of Rammell’s guides.
If you dare to match wits on your own against one of those giant,
molasses-loving bulls, there’s no guarantee. Hunting all by
yourself is what the farm’s advertisement calls "the ultimate
challenge."

Rammell says he’ll sue the governor and
anybody else who kills or has killed his escaped elk. Rammell also
says he’s going to run for governor himself. Perhaps the
voters of Idaho face the ultimate challenge, too.

Hal Herring writes from Augusta,
Montana.

Note: the opinions expressed in this column are those of the writer and do not necessarily reflect those of High Country News, its board or staff. If you'd like to share an opinion piece of your own, please write Betsy Marston at betsym@hcn.org.